Alice Haven
by Fangirlno.90463
Summary: Zombie!AU - Survival was a selfish cause. Very slow MikanxNatsume.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone! I recently developed an obsession with the zombie apocalypse, so I decided I'd get it out of my system with a story! Please read and let me know what you think! Also, I'm not sure if this is too dark for a T rating, so please let me know if you think it should be M. XD!**

**(I'm not sure if any of the readers here remember, but this is a repost of a story I started writing a long time ago. I wasn't sure where I wanted to go with it at the time, and I wanted to change the style of writing to one I'm more familiar with nowadays. I've reposted it and I intend to keep going with it- so I hope you enjoy!)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gakuen Alice or any associated characters and settings**

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**Chapter one: The rules of war**

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She crept through the streets, crouching low. Her eyes were darting constantly, taking in everything. Hiding places, shadows, noises. She was watching for the slightest sign of movement; behind the overturned car on the curb; in the shadow of the derelict department store across the road.

Clutched tightly in her hand was a gun. One finger curled around the trigger lightly, ready to pull at a minutes notice. She caught sight of a road sign; 5 miles to MDJ Asylum for the Criminally Insane.

Good, she was nearly there. With a quick, wary glance around, one tanned hand slipped a tattered jacket sleeve up to check the watch beneath.

A sharp intake of breath, it was 6:00pm. The green digits glowed dully against a black background, telling her she was cutting it too close. She cursed lowly and chanced another look around, scanning the area. It was empty, but the tall buildings around her and a setting sun were creating advancing shadows. They would be out within the hour.

She had to move quickly.

The duffel bag she was carrying made a muffled thud as it hit the ground. She kept it close by her feet though, only intending to leave it for a moment. Quick, clever hands fiddled with zippers and ties until an over-large jacket slipped off her shoulders with ease; she left it to hang around her waist.

She shook her arms out and delighted in the sudden coolness dancing along her skin. Her white, fitted singlet still felt too hot and sticky in the summer heat, and it was damp with swear, but discomfort is something she had gotten use too. Her short, choppy hair tickled her neck, but was too short to stick to her neck.

She tightened the laces on her boots without looking down.

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_**Rule number 1#, **__never lower your guard._

_._

Swinging her duffel bag over her shoulder with one smooth movement, she flicked the safety catch on the gun off and cocked it, holding tightly with her right hand. No playing it safe now. She started off at a steady jog. Her boots made a light crunching on the asphalt road.

She winced; every noise was a beacon marking her location. That was something she could not afford.

She picked up her speed and ducked low, eyes still flickering around warily. She watched the growing shadows anxiously, her muscles tensing with adrenaline and a sense of danger. She slowed to a walk when she reached the curb, continuously glancing over her shoulder.

The sun shone in her eyes blindingly when she rounded the corner. She squinted, blinking rapidly to adjust her sight. One hand came up to shield her eyes tiredly. She blinked at the sight arrayed before her. It twisted her mouth into a grimace and narrowed her eyes almost angrily. Hiroshima had been beautiful city, really. It should have been a great place to grow up. She smiled bitterly, because she couldn't even remember what it had looked like before.

She shifts and stares downwards. She's standing at the top of a hill; the road travels down into a place that was more like an empty shell than a city.

It was still the same place, but it had fallen into disrepair. Litter, empty cars, broken signs and shattered windows lined the streets. The city seemed to be all one colour, a dull, weather-beaten grey. All that debris wasn't the problem though, it was the silence. It was the eerie emptiness, like the calm before a storm. It entered her very bones and settled in her chest until she was so afraid she could choke. But she was use to fear, and she knew what it could do if left untended.

She took the hand from over her eyes and started walking down the hill. She narrowed her gaze and watched only street level. The city could rot for all she cared; there were more important things at stake tonight.

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_**Rule number 2#,**__ things are different now, remember it._

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MDJ was never somewhere a regular person wanted go, for obvious reasons. It had always looked a bit like a prison, but the ridiculous attempts to do it up as though it was a nice place to live used to make her sick. People, even bad people, deserved better than that. At least nowadays, the outside matched the inside, she thought, somewhat bitterly. The crumbling bricks and out of control weeds on the walls made her want to laugh. But the funniest thing was the still undamaged, iron-wrought gates that blocked the entrance.

Engraved onto the decorative plaque was all this stuff about honorary founders and sponsers of construction. It seemed even more shallow and silly than it had been before. Sometimes it made her want to giggle, but not out of joy. They'd wanted to leave a legacy behind, and now they had; just a little bit earlier than expected, she would imagine.

She threw her duffel bag over the gate with great heave. It made a sound between a clang and a clunk when it landed. She prepared to vault over in pursuit, but paused to give the plaque on the gate a mock salute. She didn't say anything. Words don't matter much anymore. Not when you're alone and there's nothing to accompany the sound of your voice in the silence. She always sounded far more insignificant than she'd like to think she was.

The bars were rusty and rough beneath her hands, and the gate creaked when she clambered up and over the top. With the bag back over her shoulder, she headed up the large drive to the building. It was ugly and square, with no rounded edges or soft colours. Spending time in this miserable hole sure as hell didn't cure any of **her** insanity. She let a chuckle escape her; more to see what would happen, than out of actual amusement. It sounded weird and too loud in the silence. A dead silence. She stopped.

Not even the birds like to talk anymore.

If there are any left in the city, that is.

The driveway was thankfully cement, and did not crunch beneath her feet like the street outside the gates. She ignored the double front doors and steps to creep along the side wall. The secondary entrance was a series of roll up doors on the west wall of the building. They were the carports for the padded cells-on-wheels. The big horrible trucks with amazing suspension in the tires and no windows, used to transport people so crazy they couldn't function in society at all. Her fists clenched; a reflex. In another life, she would have got the shivers from this place. As it was, it made her want look away.

She sighed and walked to the door at the far end. The pre-cut roll of metal made a scratchy sound against the ground that gave her a twitchy feeling in her hands when she pushed it forward.

Her mouth turned upwards a bit and she flicked the edge of the tiny gap made lightly. It had obviously been made by her. Hotaru would barely fit through there anymore. And in fact, neither would she if they weren't both too thin. She slipped the bag through first and peeked over her shoulder one last time. The sun was almost gone completely and the smile slipped from my mouth. They would be swarming soon. She crawled inside the building and pushed the bit of metal back.

It was pitch black once that little sliver of light was gone. She placed her back against the doors. The familiar terror and panic was building up in her, the ingrained and instinctive fear that you **do not turn off the lights**.

She crept along the wall, fighting it back before it paralysed her. Once she reached a corner she felt upwards until her hand hit something. Relief surged into her when cool plastic met her fingers. She breathed out heavily and shakily when the switch turned on the building's garage lights. She wasn't safe, but she was safer.

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_**Rule number 3#,**__ stay out of the dark._

_._

The room itself wasn't scary at all. It was rectangular with about seven or eight vans in it. If she ignored the insignia on the vans she felt just fine. The smiling nurse and her mentally disabled patient were just a bit too unrealistic. Up the eastern wall was a set of stone stairs with a rail. She moved swiftly and scaled them quickly. She needed to be ready for night. She reached the double doors at the top. They were padlocked by a chain through the handles. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a key. The padlock was stiff, and it took a lot of pain and time to open, but it was worth having there.

Shoving through the doors and into the first of the asylum's many halls, she knew instantly something was wrong.

The hall looked the same as when she had left it. Blood smears, overturned beds, smashed windows, barred doorways, flickering, faulty lights and all. It was still empty, still silent but for the creepy buzzing of the short-circuiting fluorescent blubs. All in all, it was horrible, but there was something else that made her hands sweaty and filled her with the desire to run and hide.

She gagged desperatly, fighting an all too familiar urge to claw at her throat.

It was the smell.

That horrible mix of rotting and burning flesh. It was death. It was a smell that haunted nightmares. It was the smell of **them**.

Adrenaline shot through her and instantly her gun was up and levelled. She held it in front of her, as she began to move down the hall slowly and deliberately, with carefully muted steps. You were noisy; you lost the advantage. They hunted with sound and sight; their own stench covered everything so thoroughly that smell became useless as a sense.

She narrowed her eyes and focused on the hall ahead. She had to get to the other side of the hospital; god knows whether she still had a reason to.

The silence was getting to her, stringing out all her nerves and making her panic build up until it was a thundering in her ears. It was her heartbeat, she realised almost instantly, beating frantically in response to fear.

There was nothing she could do to get rid of the anxiety. With ease born of practice, she channelled it into sharpening her focus.

The gun stopped shaking and her walk became even quieter. She breathed steadily. The gasping that comes after holding your breath and rapid panting noises they cause were both ways to give yourself away, no matter the circumstances.

She made her way half-way across the building, almost where she needed to go, and still no sign of anyone, or thing. The rooms around her varied greatly in contents, yet all were completely empty. She frowned warily; the smell was getting stronger. She knew that there was a very good chance that they had found the hideout. A very good chance that it was already too late and she should just run.

Her mind raced. They would be clustered around the door, trying to break in. Hotaru would need her help to get out, if she wasn't already too late. A sudden anger blazed through her at the thought of her being too late. Her pace quickened until she was almost jogging. She flew around the next corner.

And there they were; three of them. Her greatest fear and hate.

She stopped instantly and steadied her body instantly, her finger clenching around the handgun in her grasp.

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_**Rule number 4#,**__ make every shot count. _

_._

The one closest to her turned around in the midst of his stumbling walk. A voice rolled out with a hissing and animalistic growl. His milky-filmed eyes and rotted body may have once been handsome, when he was alive. Now, he was covered in filth and blood, with gore smears near his mouth. He was pale as death, and about four times as ugly. His eyes lit up with a crazed hunger and he advanced on her. His movements were clumsy and stiff, but a lot faster than you'd think. His companions followed with mindless desire to feed; two middle-aged females.

A shudder ran down her spin, born of horror and fear alike. This was not right; her mouth twisted with disgust and pity.

She aimed the gun and closed one eye to take extra care; the barrel pointed at the man. The familiar sickening reluctance to shoot was pushed aside roughly. A click and a bang later, he dropped to the ground, his brains blown out all over the floor. The gore left smeary trails across the tiles.

She fought down her urge to throw up and took out the other two in the same way. Both went down, insane and starved expressions frozen onto their grotesque faces.

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_**Rule number 5#, **__always aim for the head. _

_._

She ran over to the rotting corpses quickly, breathing through her mouth before the smell could make her start gagging again. She leaned over the male and looked at him closely. The blood around his mouth was orange and brown; days old. The two females were the same. She had only been gone for three hours or so. Which meant these ones hadn't fed, just straggled in after others paved the way. Or they might even be the only ones here.

She felt a ridiculous and illogical amount of relief wash through her. Then she shoved herself back into reality. She grabbed her gun and hoisted the duffel bag higher on her shoulder. They weren't the only ones here. And she needed to find the others.

The doors to the ward for long-term had been smashed inwards. The handles that had been used to chain it shut were in pieces beside the chain, which was whole. She felt the breath go out of her like she'd been punched. They had been here. She slid into the triangular gap silently. She landed on the other side in a crouch, and was immediatly assaulted by the sound of screeching and screaming. Howls, almost animalistic, echoed down the corridor like wind through a tunnel. It was bone-chilling, and she found herself frozen to the spot almost instantly.

Fear this paralysing was almost impossible to overcome. Then she heard a yell over the rest of the noise; recognisable because it formed into words.

"FIRE!" Several bangs, like cannon-shots, followed.

Hotaru.

It was _almost_ impossible to overcome fear like this.

She hoisted the gun higher and ran the length of the hall at a dead sprint. Hotaru was not one to engage if she could hide; she must have been caught by surprise. Which was incredibly worrying on its own.

She turned a final corner and slid to a stop in front of a pair of smashed in double doors. Her mouth dropped in silent horror, terror overwhelming her. Masses of them. Likely crowded around the only thing she still cared about in this world. But yet again she couldn't move.

The smell alone was enough to knock her down, but it was the faces that froze her.

The faces. The horrible, disgusting faces filled with savage hunger and a mindless desire to kill and eat. They were death.

Death.

Dead.

Alive.

_Living dead._

Really, she'd thought she was over being this weak. It seems it never truly goes away.

There were at least forty of them, they had smashed through the double oak doors that had covered the doorway, and ripped through quite a lot of plaster on their way. It littered the floor beneath the crowd and hung in the air. She narrowed her eyes and focused on what lay before her, trying to ignore everything that told her to turn around and run away, regardless of the consequences.

Everything was framed by the gentle orange glow of sunset through the all-glass wall opposite her. Their mouths were open, drooling blood and rotten black saliva. They had trampled all over the makeshift beds on the floor, and weak imitations they had built up to resemble a home of sorts. A pang in her terribly over-worked heart.

Another bang snapped her head to the right. And then she saw her.

Standing above the screeching living dead on a table barricade, Hotaru balanced, holding one of her guns and shooting powder bombs at those nearest to her. Each one made the sharp crack she had recognised before. The powder spread across the bodies of those struck and spread like the infection they themselves caused.

It was like acid, and the cause of the howling she had heard. The remains disintegrated into dust and fell upon the floor to join the plaster.

She looked up in time to meet Hotaru's eyes. Relief blossomed in her chest and despite the whole situation, only one thing mattered. She wasn't too late. Hotaru was thinking more practically. Her violet eyes were filled with an emotion similar to one that might be felt be an avenging angel. Divine and murderous.

"MIKAN! USE THE WORMY GUN!"

Her eyes widened. Of course! She flicked her gaze across the white powder Hotaru was still spreading across the room. She dropped the duffel bag with efficient speed, her fingers flying to the zip and ripping it open blindingly fast. The contents spilled unto the ground; A large bazooka-like gun, several powder bomb bullets, a powder-bomb launcher and bullets for the regular gun she clutched.

But this was an emergency, and she knew that it would do no good to take them down one at a time. She ripped her jacket off her waist and tied it around her shoulders tightly. Her hands grabbed the bazooka gun and hauled it under her right arm. It was harder than she'd expected to stand with both hands occupied, but she managed.

She was aware of Hotaru's continued struggle in the background and called out.

"READY!"

Hotaru answered with a hoarse shout of pain. Her heart jumped; it had to be done now. Plan B, because she was out of time for the other less painful option.

She fired a shot with her left hand, then threw the gun away with a flick of her wrist. Every single ravenous zombie in the room faced her. They always react to sound, no matter what it is. She met Hotaru's blazing (but thankfully still alive) eyes briefly and nodded calmly, then the mob charged at her in one wave of nightmares and she was running to meet them, the coat flying out behind and around her.

"Mikan!" Hotaru was suddenly crying desperately, though she could only hear her distantly.

She smashed the first one to come within reach with the bazooka, and the second, and the third, but that was all. She was swallowed up by the mob. Using her overly large gun and cloak as a shield, she ploughed deeper into the middle, fighting the terrifying urge to run away. She couldn't see anything past the rotting faces, and she knew she was crying reflexively from dormant fear. But none of that mattered because she had to reach the centre.

And suddenly she was there. Around her they were causing more harm to themselves than to her with their desperate shrieking and clawing. She vaguely Hotaru shooting again in the background.

Reaching a desperate, fumbling hand into her pocket, she screamed when agony ripped through that arm. Her head snapped up and she shrieked; one had managed to scratch her. she had little time left. She smashed the man point blank in the face, and then retracted her injured arm from her pocket, clutching her last hope desperately in her hand. Ignoring the mob around her, she raised her voice to a scream.

"HOTARU! WORMY GUN!"

In one movement she used her teeth to pull back the slider on the side of the bazooka, and the other to slam the bullet clenched in her fist into the chamber. She clicked it shut again hoisted the whole lot unto her shoulder and fired upwards. Then she was tossed backwards by the recoil and hit the floor.

She tucked her body tightly inwards and sheltered under her jacket. She waited for just one second of terrible anticipation then, hoping she was prepared enough and Hotaru had taken shelter.

The scorching heat and explosive booming sound were unbelievable. She felt herself screaming non-stop. Even though she knew the fire and noise was just a sound effect and the not the cause of the real damage. White powder rained down around her, made heavy by some combustible liquid Hotaru had lined the 'wormy gun's' barrel with. When the screams and ringing in her ears died down somewhat, she raised her head to survey the damage, throwing away the jacket designed specifically to shield her from such a blast.

The smell was better, thankfully. The heat had burnt some of it away. The zombies around her, closest to the blow, were in pieces, their bodies disintergrated beyond help. The others had been thrown back against walls, and even out windows by the force of the blast. They were all well and truly dead now, only the occasional growl from one that had been partially ripped apart or destroyed rang through the room. The roof was destroyed with the windows and burn marks adorned every surface.

With a sick feeling in her gut, she looked over at the table in the corner. She tried to call out, but her throat was raw and choked. She suddenly started feeling the pain from the bite on her arm.

"Mikan!"

Her head snapped up. Hotaru was panting, blood leaking sluggishly from the gash showing through her torn singlet. She knelt down and observed her arm without a word. She rolled onto her back weakly, hissing at the pain in her injured limb. It was all she could do to stare at the ceiling fuzzily; her ears were still ringing. Hotaru's face interrupted this staring contest with her face.

"Damage report," she said calmly. Her breathing was beginning to return to its normal rate. She coughed forcefully, clearing her throat.

"I was scratched, on my right arm. Before the bomb went off. My ears are ringing, I couldn't block them in time. Other than that I have a few cuts," she croaked. Hotaru nodded. She disappeared and appeared in my field of vision rapidly. She held a cotton bandage after coming back. She gritted her teeth and groaned when she wrapped it tightly and hurriedly around her injured arm.

"It wasn't very deep. We already know it won't get infected, so you should be fine. Your ears will clear up in a few minutes."

She caught sight of Hotaru's injury again and frowned.

"What about you?"

She looked down at her stomach with an expression of faint surprise, as though she hadn't noticed it before then. Her hands reached for the cotton.

"I'll fix it up now."

They sat together in silence until Hotaru was done. She got to her feet swiftly and swept around the room, grabbing the discarded duffel bag lying just outside the door and putting anything still usable into it.

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_**Rule number 6#, **__every little thing matters._

_._

"How'd they get in?"

She started to struggle into a sitting position; her hearing was almost clear, but a little bit of nausea remained. Hotaru flicked her over-long bangs out of her eyes impatiently.

"I think they were the bodies in the morgue. I have no idea how they got out, but I'd assume the iron locks rusted and they smashed through as a mass."

She skipped over a still twitching body to the box that had held their food. It was destroyed and her lips tightened in displeasure.

"They came for this room because of the noise, I think. I had the radio on."

She sighed and shrugged with annoyance. Hotaru didn't like to make mistakes.

"I was caught by surprise."

She blinked sympathetically at her friend and managed to stand up, shaking her head to clear it fully. Her hearing was once again fully intact.

"Here!"

She turned in time to catch a jacket thrown at her by Hotaru; their only spare. She said nothing, and pulled it on. Hotaru came back and handed her the duffel bag, unzipped. She looked inside briefly.

"What've we got?" Hotaru asked.

She frowned, "Two metres of rope, one gun, as well as the gun you dropped if you can find it, the ammo in the bag, the wormy gun and a few powder bombs to go with it."

Hotaru sighed, "That's not a lot."

They looked at each other, at a loss. She placed her injured arm against her body and rubbed her head with the other hand.

"We need to hurry and find somewhere for the night. I'd say we have half and hour at most before the light goes. Even less to leave here before more show up."

"It's not like we haven't had to do it before. This place was depressing anyway. Let's move out, we'll probably have to stay in the park for tonight," Hotaru agreed without hesitation and swung the duffel bag out of her hands, hoisting it over her own shoulder.

"We'll have to find more food tomorrow," she pouted regretfully. She liked food, even if most of what they ate was canned or mouldy. They could never take anything like food and bandages after a fight in case they were infected.

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_**Rule number 7#,**__ better safe than sorry._

_._

Climbing down the side of the building was strangely easy with the windows already broken for them. It was a little more painful than usual with their injuries, but nothing they hadn't handled before. She reached the last ledge before the ground quickly, though her bones still felt a little jellified after the powder bomb. Hotaru casually steadied her with an arm, trying to look like she wasn't worried. It was a habit, born from a desire to keep the injured calm and discourage panic. With only two of them though, it lost some of its significance. She knew neither she nor Hotaru would start to panic over a few scratches.

The ground was about a metre and half down. She peered into the dusk with Hotaru perched beside, doing the same. Nothing was moving in her field of vision, but that didn't mean nothing was lurking out there. Dusk had fallen quickly; her watch read 6:47pm. The dead would swarm around this place once night fell.

"Move out," Hotaru murmured and they hit the ground running.

The iron gate that had protected them for a long time was surprisingly easy to jump and forget. She guessed when a person lived life like this; home was wherever she thought she could sleep without dying. Hotaru spat on the gate after she landed.

"Thank god," she muttered under her breath. She threw an accusing look over her shoulder. "That is the last time we stay anywhere that looks even remotely like a hospital. You hear?"

She nodded in agreement, her face set in an expression similar to wistfulness.

"I always used to hate hospitals anyway."

She turned and scanned the street ahead, knowing Hotaru would be instinctively covering their backs. they both had their guns raised, ready to fire rapidly. But the dusk was hauntingly empty. She reasoned that any who had begun to move would head straight for the hospital, the noise.

They would be fine, for another day at least.

She made a bee-line for the park a few intersections down, Hotaru following without argument. Hotaru trusted her enough to not ask questions. The light was almost gone now, and the only light they had was a few flickering and dysfunctional street lights still working on timers and kicking in too early. The eerie quiet was everywhere, and she glanced sharply at every shadow.

The grass of the park was dead and brown. She noticed absently as they hopped the curb and off the street. Several hot summers and no sprinklers worth of dead plants she'd wager. But the bushes and trees surrounding them were green. They crept as silently as possible down the first path they came across. Hotaru was calling the shots as to what direction they went, but she was fine with that. The paths were everywhere; intersecting and interweaving constantly. She would have gotten lost in an instant. Hotaru picked one that ran deeper. They wouldn't come too far into a park.

Her eyes had adapted to the fading light and she could pick out the shapes of bushes. Suddenly, there was a rustle beside them. Instantly two guns were up and levelled. There was no room for hesitation. They went back to back by unspoken consent and waited silently, ears straining to catch the slightest sound.

It came out of the bushes closest to Hotaru. She knew her friend would not hesitate to shoot, so she reached out a hand and stopped her. Hotaru looked at her with narrowed, demanding eyes. Then snorted derisively, not even needing to verbalise her question before it was answered.

A boy with his head hanging stood before them. His hair was mattered and dirty. He would've been far younger than them.

She hesitated, ". . . hey, little boy?"

The head raised and she felt her stomach sink. The milky-filmed, red-rimmed eyes, the mindlessness behind them, the rotting skin and clumsy walk. It wasn't a kid anymore.

Her arm raised and she aimed her gun; eyes sad, "I'm sorry."

The boy started to move towards them ravenously. She pulled the trigger. It got him through the lower jaw, ripping it away. He flew back onto the ground, twitching and snarling feebly. Hotaru expressionlessly shot him a second time through the forehead. He stopped moving.

They stood in silence for a few moments. Hotaru in respect of her distress rather than any unwanted emotions of her own.

"Come on, Mikan. We need to find a big enough tree before it gets completely dark," she said quietly, but in a tone that allowed for no argument.

She smiled listlestly in reply; a small and sad expression. "Yeah, we do."

Hotaru nodded and turned on her heel, disappearing further into the greenery. After a moment of contemplation, she follows soundlessly. She thinks maybe they're murderers, and that's why Hotaru is always so intent on appearing heartless.

Because if they want to live in this world then they genuinly have to be.

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_**Rule number 8#, **__it's them or you._

_._

In the end they chose a tree beside the pond in the centre of the park. It was a pretty little thing, all sparkly in the starlight. Especially from up in the tree. She was a good climber, and Hotaru always had an invention for the more important things. It only took a minute for her to swing her way up several branches and have Hotaru throw her the bag. She settled it in a fork between two branches and offered Hotaru a hand they both knew she didn't need. She narrowed her lovely eyes at it, as though it was planning to bite her (and knowing her luck, it might very well try). When she finally took it with a sigh, one of those small, very rare smiles graced her face.

They settled quickly; guns were placed close at hand, for instant use. The duffel bag was hung on a branch above them. Unfortunatly it appeared to be empty of food. They would be going hungry tonight. At least they still had water.

They had no blankets, but it was summer, so her ratty jacket and Hotaru's coat would do. She shifted carefully into a horizontal position, easily ignoring the discomfort she was so use to.

"Goodnight Hotaru." She said tiredly, smiling sleepily at her.

"Goodnight Mikan," she replies after a pause.

It was a tradition, from back when there had been more of them all surviving together. Everyone said goodnight to show that they were still there, surviving. Hotaru had never been an overly indulgent person, and she'd never found that sort of thing productive, but now . . .

. . . there was only Hotaru for her to say it to.

She preferred to think that at least she still had Hotaru to say it to.

She smiled and rolled over slightly, feeling satisfied. Her jacket was tucked up around her chin; it wasn't really cold, so it was probably just an automatic instinct to snuggle into something. She closed her eyes and waited for sleep to come. She found herself very tired because today had been a tad more stressful than usual. She heard Hotaru settle down beside her with a sigh. It wasn't late, but sleep was hard to come by at the best of times, so it was a take every opportunity kind of situation. Even if that meant bed at 7:00 pm.

She cursed herself for not getting to sleep quicker once night fell. Because all of a sudden she was huddling into her blanket in fear, and covering her ears.

Screams, howling, riots. The noises rose from the city outside the park radius. They were kilometres away, but the sound was only muted somewhat. She clenched her jaw and ground her teeth together.

Across the branch, she saw Hotaru sit up, and reach into her deep pockets. She pulled out two sets of headphones, modified to block out any sound two hundred or less metres away, depending on what setting was used. She reached up and set them in her ears quickly, looking totally unruffled as she did so. The others she held outstretched in one hand.

"Here."

Hotaru gave her another small, almost non-exsistant smile and lay down again when she grabbed the headphones from hand and slipped them into her ears. The relief was instant, though she knew her dreams would be filled with riots and brutal fights and crazed monsters feeding on small animals with blood dripping from their chins.

She tried to sleep again; it was easier when she pretended she needed the headphones to block out the sound of an old lifetime that seemed almost impossibly distant.

The cars driving, horns beeping; just city noises. They were the noises at night that told you that you weren't the only person in the world. That there were others. Now, there was none of that noise. They had no one to turn to. No moment where they felt completely safe. No end to their struggle in sight.

But she couldn't think about that. Not now. She looked back at her sleeping friend. Then decided friend wasn't a strong enough word to describe her feelings for Hotaru.

She was her family. Her everything.

Without Hotaru there would be no point to her exsistance.

She would look after her. She would do anything to keep her alive. And at the same time she knew that in the end it would far more likely be the other way around but that didn't mattered because Hotaru needed her too. They'd be together for as long as lived (probably not very long in all honesty, but one could hope). She would give her life for Hotaru. She would kill for her, she thinks. And they would be real people, not the rotting dead kind.

Fighting for her; this meant following the rules and always knowing what to do. Never breaking down. Working together in perfect unison and just surviving because there was nothing else they could do.

She closed her eyes. Keeping watch would be pointless. They would feel it if the dead people tried to climb up. They wouldn't come into the forest anyway. The amount of life made them jealous, and any food to be found had long since run away or perished.

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_**Rule number 9#, **__take nothing for granted; not even sleep._

_._

She was startled awake the next morning by the loud sound of heavy thudding. The pounding broke through her dreams and catapulted her into awareness. She sat up so quick she felt dizzy, and had to lean against the tree trunk for support. Her disorientated gaze flickered over and found Hotaru still sleeping; she was quite good at sleeping. Then her eyes found the headphones in Hotaru's ears and the pounding registered in her mind.

If she could hear it, it was within- she checked the headphone setting quickly- one hundred metres. She pulled out the headphones and was assaulted with a thunderous noise in her ears. She frantically searched the surroundings on the ground, seeing nothing out of place but noting the sunlight and morning sky automatically out of habit.

_What was it?_

A thought came to her; her head snapped up and she saw it, above the park. It was flying in circles above, preparing to land. For a moment her mind blanked, then it came to her, a word that felt almost completely foreign; Helicopter.

Her mouth dropped open and she stared in open disbelief. This sort of thing did not happen. It just didn't. Not in her world. That sort of thing just _did not happen._

Hotaru would know how to handle it all. She always did.

"Hotaru!"

She leaned over and shoved her shoulder, fingers grabbing the headphones out of her ears at the same time. Hotaru jolted awake, her eyes snapping open. It took her less than a minute to grasp what was going on. She watched her friend with an absent smile; Hotaru was a genius after all. She was starting to relax from her aura of purposeful calm.

"I'll try to get a good look at it. Make sure there are none on the ground."

She nodded in agreement. Hotaru bent over the duffel bag again and pulled out a pair of modified night-vision goggles. She looked up as she rummaged.

"How long have they been here?"

She checked her watch distractedly; 7:00 am.

"I woke up five or so minutes ago."

Hotaru nodded and began her analysis through the goggles. She started muttering things under her breath rapidly and obviously taking mental notes to be stored in that massive brain of hers. So she turned away from her friend and did her job too. She watched silently, eyes flashing around, fingers clenched around her gun and gaze focused.

"Unbranded, well-taken care of, gunned, several passengers, not including the pilot."

She stopped scanning the surroundings and looked over her shoulder in time to see the helicopter land in the trees beyond the pond, about one hundred and fifty metres east of their tree. She watched it disappear from sight, and suddenly a thought occurred to her. She smiled, the beginnings of something good blossoming in her chest. Possibly hope.

"Maybe they've come from a place with other people, and are looking for survivors?"

Hotaru's eyes narrowed. "It would be better to act carefully in this kind of situation." She was frowning, and her fingers clenched and unclenched continuously. She recognised the fiercely protective look in Hotaru's eyes. The girl would not let the intruders anywhere near them if she thought they might do harm. Or them anywhere near the intruders.

She felt a pang of disappointment in her chest.

"We should go." She looked up into level violet eyes blankly. "Check it out," Hotaru clarified briefly, sort of staring her down and refusing to meet her eyes at the same time.

She felt a smile half work its way unto her face as Hotaru packed up the duffel bag.

"We're getting food first though."

"Uh huh."

"And we're only looking until we know what's going on."

"Yep."

"And Mikan," Hotaru suddenly said in all seriousness, with none of her previous light-hearted protesting. She looked up in surprise.

"Don't get too excited."

Hotaru's eyes were cold, hard and just a little bit sad. She nodded in response; it wasn't something she really needed to be told.

.

_**Rule number 10#,**__ don't hope unless you like despair._

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><p><strong>What'd you think? Huh? Huh? Tell me! Please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?<strong>

**Nah, I'm just kidding, but seriously, if you liked it, please review! XD**

**(I like this version of the story better, plus now it's got more plot and has expanded past the stage of random zombie violence. What do you guys think?)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, so here's chapter two! I would like to thank everybody to reviewed, alerted or even just visited my story. I was so stoked (and amazed) to find out that 44 people had visited my story in the first week after I posted it! :) So I hope you guys like chapter two and continue to read. **

**I sincerely hope this doesn't come out to rushed at the end, I re wrote it a few times and it didn't work so I just decided it was just a tricky spot and left it as it was. Some feedback on what you guys think would be pretty nice if anyone could spare a few seconds. :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Gakuen Alice or any associated characters and settings**

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><p>Chapter Two: We don't take charity<p>

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It was almost surreal; seeing faces that weren't smeared with gore and rot. Clean faces, filled with life and intelligent comprehension. The only face Hotaru saw on a regular basis was Mikan's, but that was constantly covered in dirt and fear. As was her own, on the rare times when she deigned to look at her reflection. These faces were male, and clean, and strong and so obviously filled with purpose and a lack of fear. Hotaru was almost fascinated, and from this was able to deduce that Mikan would be absolutely enraptured. Her eyes were drawn almost against her will to the lines of their faces, and the smooth grace in their movements.

She had to remind herself to focus and detach. She had to pretend they were just another threat to Mikan that needed to be assessed and neutralised; which they were, all things considered.

The clearing was fifty meters in berth, and they had landed in the middle. The men bustled with purpose about the large, dull green helicopter. It was large, with two propellers, and the kind that was used in the army for carrying whole troops of men at a time. But there were only six; the watching she frowned suspiciously. This was like no army-issue, goverment-controlled rescue operation she'd ever seen. It was more the vigilante, we-have-weaponary attempt to gather survivors into a new militant society. Or maybe she was being paranoid and overprotective. Four men were working under direction of the pilot to remove some kind of metal device from the cargo hold of the machine. It was large, tubular and sat upright. They set it in the ground and began to plug in the loose wires running all over the outside. It resembled vaguely an engine or futuristic ship motor of some kind; the sort fo thing that frequented sciencefiction movies.

Hotaru narrowed her eyes. The stand of the device had sunk deep into the ground. They weren't planning to remove it any time soon. It must be an explosive, or measuring instrument of some kind.

Suddenly two more men jumped from the cockpit, capturing her attention instantly. They stuck out among the party of eight like sore thumbs; a short red headed man and a blonde so feminine he could easily be mistaken for a girl if not for his height and broad shoulders. They were a splash of colour against a back drop of muted green and black. As opposed to the uniform black jump suits of the men setting up their strange equipment, these two men were wearing clothes Hotaru could only describe as ridiculously colourful and poofy. Fur coats and vests, laced up boots, tight pants and the blonde one was sporting a headpiece so outlandish it offended Hotaru's eyes.

But more than their clothes, her gaze was drawn by their aura of command. The blonde in particular, demanded the attention of those around him. He watched calmly, making no move to assist; Hotaru's lip curled with latent disgust.

He surveyed the set up with a smile and satisfied set to his frame. He opened his mouth, but she was too far away to read his lips properly. The last words were the only ones she caught, and they made little sense to her.

_Alice . . . Haven?_

Hotaru stored it in her brain for later analysis. Mikan was situated across the clearing and closer to the blonde man. Perhaps she had caught more of his speech. Hotaru tensed when the men began to retreat back to the helicopter, obviously under the orders of the blonde man. Her hand twitched towards her gun out of habit, but she caught herself with an irritated frown. These men gave her a bad feeling.

They left nothing but the strange device behind, packing everything into the helicopter. The rotors of the machine began to turn again. If she and Mikan planned to accompany them, the time to show themselves would be now. She felt Mikan's unseen gaze fixed upon her from the other side of the clearing, despite the fifty metre gap between them. She contemplated the scene before her, and found her worries centred around the device they intended to leave behind.

What was it?

Her brain worked frantically and came up blank and clear of an explanation. It did come up with a safe plan of action, though, which was really the thing she wanted more.

Hotaru made no move as the copter took off into the sky, taking the men with it. She waited for Mikan to skirt back around the edges of the clearing and meet her. They had no way of communicating, so the signal for their retreat was her own inactivity.

She fiddled with her gun, fingers drumming over the barrel while her eyes stared sightlessly ahead, lost in thought. Her ears were straining however, waiting for the slightest warning sound. Just because the dead did not like the park, did not mean they didn't venture here. There was still every chance that she and Mikan could be attacked or swarmed here. And Hotaru was far from stupid enough to forget that.

That's why she was almost put out when she didn't hear Mikan until she was right behind her.

"Why not?"

A shrill voice demanded from behind her. Hotaru let the smallest smile play about her lips. For Mikan to have crept up on _her_, well; she was pretty good. She'd want to be. Hotaru glanced over her shoulder. Mikan was puffed up in a mild sort of desperate anger; despite having been told not to raise her hopes, she had done so anyway. Hotaru sighed, letting her voice become cold and firm.

"They'll be back. That's why."

Mikan blinked, the angry flush still in her cheeks, her mouth half open to reply but not quite there yet.

"What do you-"

"They left that thing there," Hotaru interrupted impatiently. Mikan's inability to think things through without her heart getting in the way had always been irritating.

"That means they intend to come back! Don't you see?" She snapped.

Mikan closed her mouth with a clack of teeth hitting each other, her protesting at an end. Hotaru watched the agreeable dopiness return to her eyes. Mikan could never stay mad at anyone. She settled down calmly (calm for Mikan being she only fidgeted slightly) and began watching the trees around them.

"What are we going to do until then?"

Hotaru interlocked her fingers contemplatively, still tapping on the gun barrel with her fingers.

"I'm going to look at that thing, see what I can find out. Then we're going to find a new hole."

Hole was their nickname for each place they stayed. Home was too permanent a word for a hideout that could be compromised at a second's notice. Silence followed her statement however, and Hotaru's head snapped up warningly.

"What, Mikan?"

Mikan's face was twisted into the thoughtful pout she wore whenever she had to disagree with Hotaru because she had a better idea. Hotaru hated that look, because for Mikan to disagree with her, she generally had to be pretty confident in her idea being the better course of action.

"How about I go find us a hole, and you check the . . . thing out?"

"NO!"

Ah, maybe in this instance Hotaru was wrong about the intelligence behind her suggestion. She opened her mouth to shut down the idea immediatly, with venom. Something Mikan was surprised by, evidently.

Because she didn't know exactly what had happened at their past hole.

"We won't be seperated for long!" She added hastily, her face earnest. Hotaru kept her expression stoney. This was not something she was prepared to budge on. Mikan locked eyes with her, and her face drooped from earnest to disappointed. But there was an edge in her face, a confused gleam to her eyes.

"After all this time . . . you still don't trust me?"

Hotara jerked back as if she'd been struck. And really, she had. Right through the chest.

"What? No! No." She ran a hand through her choppy hair in frustration. Mikan stared steadily, her gaze uncompromising and unwavering. Hotaru splayed her fingers against her forehead and glared through them.

"We have time."

"Not enough."

"It'll still be here tomorrow."

"You don't know that."

"It's dangerous out there."

"I can take care of myself."

"Plenty of people could take care of themselves, Mikan," Hotaru laughed humorlessly, bitterly. "But it doesn't take just a mistake or a stupid decision. It's about luck. Luck, and caution."

"And I have both!" Mikan said pleadingly, her face softening. "You know I do. I went out yesterday. so what's the problem this time?"

"That," spat Hotaru, grinding her teeth. "Was different."

"How?" Mikan cried, her face twisting in a mix of hurt. Hotaru felt a burning anger rise up in her stomach and flood her chest. She had begun to snarl an angry reply, then was reminded why they were arguing in the first place. A searing pain lashed through her back and she let out an involuntary cry of pain. She fell forward, her head thumping into the ground with a force that left her dizzy. She gasped when a weight dropped on top of her, pinning her body to the ground and pressing on her injury.

Wetness dripped down the side of her head, and her back felt sticky and warm. Pain pulsed through her system with every beat of her heart. She was aware of animalistic snarling in her ear and a smell of breath and rotted flesh so horrible that had her face not been pressed into the dirt she would choked on unavoidable vomit. As it was she was facing an inability to breath and choking on that instead.

"Hotaru!"

A sharp bang and the weight was lifted clear off her back. She was roughly shoved over onto her back; the relief of being able to breath once more was dwarfed by the immense pain. Fire raced over her back and pounded against her skull. A gentle set of hands was on her, checking her body and finding nothing but a seemingly endless flow of blood.

"Oh god. Oh _god_."

Mikan's voice sounded above her. In the background rapidly approaching screams sounded. The hands on her body began to jerk with panic and shake. Hotaru felt detached; hadn't she been smart enough to avoid this? She didn't think she was stupid . . .

"Hotaru! HOTARU! Hotaru, can you hear me?"

The voice was shaking as much as the hands now, Hotaru noted with a detached sort of drowziness she really should have found alarming. A firm grip found her shoulder and shook her, sending pain in waves along her spin. Hotaru gasped.

"Hotaru! I need you to listen, okay? I'm gonna tie this up and- damn it!"

The hands were gone and the screaming was thunderous and there was snarling and thudding and the sound of heavy bodies crashing through foliage. She opened her eyes dazedly, making out with rapidly blurring vision the outline of someone standing over her body. And approaching shadows of darkness that she could not quite name in her state.

She knew they were bad news. _Mikan. _She knew Mikan should run. _Run, Mikan._ She knew why they'd broken into the hospital yesterday. _They know Mikan._ She knew they were getting smarter, and stronger. _Why we do things. How. _She knew. Now she just had to warn Mikan before she passed out. _They're starting to learn. _She opened her mouth; nothing came out. _We don't stand a chance._ Panic rose in her, she must say it now! _There's too many._

"Mi- Mikan . . . "

_Run._

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She panted harshly, feet slapping against the ground and sending a wave of pain up her body with every impact. The world around was a mix of fog, flickering artificial light and freezing rain. Blood pounded in her ears. Exhaustion weighed her limbs and terror sped them up. Behind her came sounds of pursuit above the rain. Screaming and screeching and the thundering sound of many things all moving at once. They sounded closer than they had moments before, though time was blurring so much she didn't know exactly how fast they were gaining. She only knew that if she slowed down even in the slightest, she would die.

Mikan didn't want to die. Not at all. The thought caught in her throat and became a choked sob. Tears dripped down her cheeks steadily, hidden in the rain. There was only so far one person could run.

The duffel bag thrown over her shoulder was distinctly more of a burden now than it had been when she'd begun her run. The rocks inside smacked against her back heavily; blood had begun to drip from the wounds. The cold water washed it away instantly. Mikan wagered she was the cleanest she'd been in months, and another strangled sob escaped her. She blinked her eyes rapidly to disperse the rain water.

A stupid mistake when she was this tired; a wave of vertigo hit and she stumbled. Even adrenaline couldn't give her the strength to stay on her feet. She went down like a tonne of bricks, the bag crashing on top of her. A wave of agony raced up her left leg and she cried out, a sound muffled by the bag that struck her head. She blacked out briefly.

She came to moments later, her head crushed between a bag of rocks and the tracks of the railway she had been running down. It ached with a vengence. She blinked her eyes a few times to dispel the black spots in her vision. Her arms trembled violently when she went to push herself up. They collapsed almost immediatly. Her chest heaved against the gravel. Panic rose in time with the howls in the distance, which didn't seem so distant anymore. She tried again, desperation helping her where determination couldn't. Her torso left the ground, and she twisted onto her back. Another cry of pain ripped from her throat. Her left ankle lay at an angle to the rest of her body, twisted in a way that widened her eyes and dried up her throat.

She didn't have time to sit around and fix it, and she was not going to give up and die on the ground like an animal. Which left the one option of sucking it up and moving on. Mikan gritted her teeth and forced her right leg under her body, shrieking when it jostled her injured ankle. She curled her left leg inwards and moaned in pain. Her body made a crunching sound when she collapsed back onto the tracks. Sobs ran through her body, accompanied by shivers now that she had ceased her frantic running.

She could not stand on her own. That much was obvious. She looked up and scanned her surroundings. After the tracks there was a gentle slope of the ground down to an abandoned garage. Two metres in front of it rested a telephone pole. Mikan clenched her fists and rolled onto her belly. It was now or never. Her strength was only fading with time. As was the gap between her and those hunting her.

Her progress along the ground was unsteady; pain rendered her unable to go more than a metre or so at a time. The power to move her legs was being evasive, and her fingers tips bled where stone and dirt and frantic clawing had torn off her finger nails. The icy cold of the metal traacks was enough to keep her awake when she reached the the tip of the hill. A sigh of relief that was closer to a sob escaped her throat. She forced herself to roll over one more time, to clear the tracks. Dazedly she realised too late that she should have been more careful near the hill. Without the strength to stop her self, she slid down the hill.

She stuck out her arms to brake, but they crumpled like paper and she tumbled head over heels, her ankle banging against the ground with every revolution. Her mind blacked-out again once she hit the bottom, and she lay in drowsy doze of pain.

Howls echoing across the yard, far too close, jolted her awake. With a frantic fear now racing through her limbs, she scrambled to the telephone pole on her knees and hauled herself up. It braced her back firmly and she looked out in the direction she had come. A mass of shadowy shapes approached at high speeds, spread in one crowd through the fog. A gasp caught in her throat; the fear she lived with everyday at its highest. Her head wound stung against the pole as she looked to the left. The station. It would have plenty of hiding places. And she was on her feet now. There was still time.

Mikan pushed off the pole, limping unsteadily towards the darkened buildings, the screams of the hoard following her. She almost made it to the shelter of the shadows.

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_She was vaguely aware of people milling around her. Shouting, shoving and fighting. That was alright. She was used to that. Once they'd decided who got the first bite, the pain would go away and she could sleep. She was lifted suddenly, onto a springy surface that felt squishy and comfortable against her face. It rose into the air and she was floating. It was nice; she let her senses drift away, blocking out the world. Black came up to swallow her like the tide. _

_The motion coming to a stop woke her once more._

_"Hello? Can you hear me?"_

_Hands roamed over her body, testing and prodding gently. If she'd had the strength to pierce the fog in her mind she would've shoved them off. This is not how it goes. They shouldn't be gentle, they should be clawing and ripping. Tearing her skin until it was in shreds and as ugly as theirs. A smooth-skinned hand slipped into her own, squeezing it gently. _

_"There must be more, this couldn't be the only one . . ." A voice murmured in her ear, soft and wondering. Not familiar, but there was only one person it could be. Clearly Mikan hadn't been seriously hurt when she'd saved them. She wished she would wake up properly and be able to move soon. But her body felt like it was made of lead; her thoughts were sluggish too. Not even the cool stinging in her back and burn as it was wrapped in something she would assume was gauze could bring her strength to the surface. She was trapped in her own mind._

_And she stayed that way for an indefinite amount of time._

_Floating on more clouds of contentment and comfort she waited. Everything felt gentle and nice and light and she needn't move for anything. The gentle hands and a soothing voice surrounded her whenever she brought her thoughts to the surface, and she felt aware of them even when she was not listening. Gradually the fire in her back dulled, along with the aches in her muscles. She started to think maybe it was time to wake up properly and thank Mikan. She brought her mind to the surface to listen._

_"She's nearly recovered. Could wake up any minute actually . . ."_

_"Have you had any luck finding others?"_

_"Nope. Nothing. This one shows up on the radar though, so unless the others are dead, she's the only one here . . ."_

_She did not comprehend what was being said, only that there were two people talking, and neither of them were Mikan. Then she processed the meaning behind their conversation. A dread stronger than any she'd felt before blossomed in her chest, along with it the memories of her last conscious conversation with Mikan. _

Hotaru's eyes snapped open of their own accord and she forced herself roughly off the ground with no heed to pain or injury. Before her sat two people, staring back at her in alarm. Something was wrong, so wrong it was making her sick. The fresh, clean faces that stared back with wide eyes and had so enraptured her in the past now made her furiously angry. She met both stares head on.

Neither were chocolate brown.

"Where's Mikan?"

". . . Who?"

"Mikan! Where's Mikan!" She spat ferociously, anger burning in her veins. The two men shifted uncomfortably. They looked familiar, but Hotaru was somewhat distracted to place them in her memories. Not that it would require much effort; she didn't know many people. The one on the right; an average sized man with watery blue eyes that couldn't meet hers for more than a minute at a time, cleared his throat.

"Is Mikan your friend? Was she here with you?"

Hotaru fough the urge to reach out and claw his face off. No one patronised her. She hissed in frustration. "If she was with me I wouldn't need to ask where she was, now would I?" Her fists clenched in the blankets below. Her frenzied mind vaguely registered the stetcher she was sitting on amongst other frenzied thoughts of Mikan. Where was that stupid moron? She composed her face and weighed up her company. The men from before. They sat across from her stretcher in what appeared to be a tent.

"What's going on?" Her voice was cold, calm.

The men exchanged a look, far too knowing for Hotaru's comfort. The blue eyed man sighed. "I suppose you'd like an explanation, right?" He offered her a strained smile, which was met with stoney silence and a glare.

"I think we'd like one too," joked the other man, who had no hair and an incredibly shiny head. Hotar's lip curled slowly in disgust, a warning that further attempts at humor would not be welcomed. The man coughed uncomfortably, a flush travelling up his neck. He got to his feet and exited the tent flap with a muttered, "I'll get Narumi."

Hotaru watched him leave impassively, her gaze calculating. The other man cleared his throat again. She turned to him.

"My name is Kent. What's yours little lady? I must say gave us quite a surprise getting our attention like that. We weren't expecting there to anyone here who wasn't . . . "

"Dead." Hotaru finished flatly. "I wouldn't presume you know anything for sure unless you intend to end up the same way." She fell into silence, her cold demeanor forcing Kent to do the same. He shifted awkwardly every few seconds; she ignored him.

They didn't know Mikan, which meant somewhere between getting their attention and leaving Hotaru to be found she had vanished. Hotaru knew it would do no good to panic and worry; she locked her emotions away. Her current predicament would require thought. She was not sure of their motives nor did she know where they had come from. It was a time for caution. Her primary aim; find Mikan. To reach that she would need to understand her situation and find out wether allying with these people was a benefit or a liability. Hotaru smiled inperceptively to herself; she had intended to have this confrontation at some point anyway.

Both she and Kent looked up when the tent flap opened once more, Kent with relief and her with a sense of satisfaction. She was prepared for this. The men who entered were those she had expected to see. The extravagantly dressed gentlemen with outlandish hair. She observed impassively.

"You can leave Kent," the blonde man chirped right off the bat, with a voice too bright and happy for the average person. He settled himself in the chair Kent vacated without complaint. Hotaru watched him hurry from her company with cruel delight. The man with red hair stood aside to let him pass, muttering something to him as they brushed shoulders. Kent shook his head minutely. Hotaru's sneer was vaguely triumphant. The red head sat down once the tent flap closed once more.

"I think introductions are in order. I'm Reo."

Hotaru stared at him flatly. For some reason his words lingered in her mind, like a fog of sorts. He met her gaze with a grin.

"In the two odd minutes you've been awake you've managed to cower two of my men," His voice was wry and quite lovely; the nicest sounding voice Hotaru had ever heard. "You're certainly a tough little lady." Hotaru smiled coldly. Why did her head still feel funny?

"Well, yes. You'd hope so."

Ice settled around the room, freezing over any attempts at genial conversation. Reo looked taken aback. Obviously another fool. She disregarded him. A sigh caught her attention. The other man stared at her with a small smile and bright eyes an unsual purple shade just a few tones lighter than her own. Hotaru met his eyes and suddenly found herself drowing in them. His smile widened ever so slightly; his lips parted as if to talk. She unconsciously leaned forward, not entirely in control of her body.

"Hello, my name's Narumi Anjo. Could you tell me yours?"

_NO! what's wrong? What's happening? What's wrong with me? WHY CAN'T I SAY NO!_

"Hotaru."

"And could you tell me how you got here?"

Hotaru's body trembled and she was glaring with more hate than she'd ever felt in her life. How was he doing it? Narumi tilted his head, and exchanged a look with Reo that she would have pegged as confused. She was frozen in place, like her body wanted nothing more than to _obey _this man's will.

"Mikan." The words ripped from her throat so unwillingly they came out like a growl. Narumi smiled, though his self-satisfied smirk was shrinking into concern.

"Another like yourself?" Hotaru nodded grudgingly. "Where is she now?" Her muscles stopped straining. All the fight went out of her and she stared at them with something very like hopelessness.

"I don't know. Dead, maybe."

She sounded exhausted, even to her own ears, and cringed internally. Narumi's face softened, and suddenly Hotaru was herself again. Her head snapped up and she looked at him fiercely. He pursed his lips.

"I won't make you talk anymore. But if you can trust us of your own accord, I want you to know that we can help you."

Hotaru laughed bitterly, "Why, oh _god_ why, would I trust you? Even before . . . that thing you did." Her lips twisted into an angry sneer. "I haven't made it this far because I offered my help to everyone."

"Just Mikan." Reo input reasonably. "You're Hotaru, right? Well we come from a place where it's safe. I know it's hard to believe, but there are others. We have a base, over near Tokyo. We can share stories and details later, but the bottom line is that we have every intention of svaing as many people as we can, including you." He hesitated. "And your friend."

Hotaru narrowed her eyes at him. What benefit would they gain by lying? They would have had countless opportunities to hurt her if they'd wished, and they obviously had ways of making her obey if they wanted. She thought quickly. Serious technology, obviously clean living conditions, healthy, well-fed and civilised. They certainly looked convincing. She had everything to gain and nothing to lose by accepting the help of these people. How much worse could her life get? She pursed her lips.

"I'll come with you."

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